


Helpline

by Gin_Juice



Series: picture book [16]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Custody Arrangements, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Indoor Smoking, No Apocalypse, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Canon, and that is the truest shit i ever heard, someone commented on a different story that allison has post-traumatic eldest daughter syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gin_Juice/pseuds/Gin_Juice
Summary: “What?” Diego’s flat voice greeted her.“Oh, is that how we’re answering the phone now? Good morning to you, too.”He grunted. “I’m heading out to work and I’m writing a note that you called as we speak. So unless you have something important to tell me, I’m hanging up.”Wow,hewas a regular ray of sunshine today, wasn’t he? Allison sat down sideways in one of the high stools at the kitchen island.“Everything okay? Because I expect Five to threaten to hang up on me in the first ten seconds of a call, but you usually make it little further than this.”Her own problems could wait a few minutes—God knew they weren’t going anywhere.___________________________It's hard, sometimes, being out in Los Angeles by herself, but Allison's siblings and all of their issues are only a phone call away.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Everyone
Series: picture book [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335751
Comments: 80
Kudos: 318





	Helpline

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series, but you don't have to read previous installments to follow along- Basically, the Apocalypse has been averted, and the kids are working on becoming a real family. The boys plus Dave's ghost are living at the Academy, Vanya still has her apartment, and Allison divides her time between NYC and LA. Vanya is gay (because, like... c'mon) but so far, only Five knows. He's been keeping himself busy by fixing up the house, and Klaus has recently started cosmetology school.

It was a clear, sunny morning in Los Angeles. The orchids were fresh, the coffee was fair trade, and Allison was ready to put her head through a wall.

She tossed aside the script her agent had dropped off yesterday evening and got up from the living room floor. Her sofa was designer and matched the room’s color scheme perfectly, and was also the single most uncomfortable thing she had ever sat on. Going with the pre-furnished option for her condo had not been a wise decision.

Still, she thought darkly as she grabbed her phone from its base, it wasn’t the worst one she’d ever made.

“What?” Diego’s flat voice greeted her.

“Oh, is that how we’re answering the phone now?” She sat down sideways in one of the high stools at the kitchen island. “Good morning to you, too.”

He grunted. “I’m heading out to work and I’m writing a note that you called as we speak. So unless you have something important to tell me, I’m hanging up.”

Wow, _he_ was a regular ray of sunshine today, wasn’t he? Allison settled fully into her seat. Her own problems could wait a few minutes—God knew they weren’t going anywhere.

“Everything okay?” she asked. “Because I expect Five to threaten to hang up on me in the first ten seconds of a call, but you usually make it little further than this.”

“I’m just tired,” he muttered. “And I have a headache. And Luther’s been pissing me off and there’s a weird pain in my knee and I got a jingle from an insurance commercial stuck in my head.”

“Bad day all around, huh?” She folded her legs up in the chair. “What did you and Luther argue about?”

“He keeps eating fruit,” Diego complained, like she ought to be as piqued by this fact as he was. “And the way he chews it is just, fucking—“

There was a strangled sound of frustration on the other end.

“I can’t say I’ve ever noticed a problem with how Luther chews fruit,” she said. “Do you think there might be a chance you’re overreacting?”

_“No._ I can’t take another goddamn day of watching him eat pears wrong.”

“Oh, Diego, come on,” she cajoled. “What’s the wrong way to eat a pear? Is he shoving them up his nose?”

“I’m moving out. I swear to God, I’m going back to the boiler room.”

Allison bit her lip in concern. Diego had seemed perfectly content when they’d last spoken, just three days earlier. Something big must have happened between now and Wednesday. Unless…

“You didn’t start another juice cleanse, did you?”

His silence spoke volumes.

“Oh, Diego, _no,”_ she groaned, slumping forward on her elbows. “When have those things ever worked out for you?”

“This one is different,” he said gruffly. “It’s not even juice, it’s like, this algae drink, and this guy I know tried it and his doctor said his liver function improved so much that—“

“There’s nothing wrong with your liver,” she interrupted, exasperated. “There’s nothing wrong with you at all, except that you’re hungry. Oh my God, why do you keep doing this to yourself? Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“I remember Klaus starting shit for no fucking reason,” he snapped. “That’s what _I_ remember.”

“Tickling your foot is not ‘starting shit.’”

“Says you.”

“Well, how about the time before that, then?” she pressed. “Remember? You were all ready to pack your bags because you and Five had an argument over the TV remote? And then you had some real food, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore, did it?”

“This is a proven system, alright?” he said hotly. “It gets your body into an alkaline state so you burn off toxins, and then after a month, you start to—“

“A _month?”_ she cut in, incredulous. “You can’t survive off of algae for that long! You are not a sea turtle, Diego.”

“You can! I’m two days in, and I already feel better.”

“You were _just_ telling me you’re tired and have a headache,” she moaned. “Please, please, go eat a sandwich.”

There was a thunk, and the hum of the dial tone filled her ear.

Allison hung up and stared into her empty living room. The script lay on the floor under an end table, like it had every right to be there.

She rubbed her temple. Screw algae. Was it too early to start drinking wine?

{}{}{}{}{}

INT. APARTMENT- NIGHT

OLIVIA and her gay friend RAY are sitting on the couch watching television.

OLIVIA

_(ravenously eating ice cream)_

I love ice cream.

RAY

You need a man.

Allison frowned down at the page. For a go-getting literary agent who was married to her job, the female protagonist sure spent a lot of screentime lounging around in pajamas and eating snacks.

She craned her neck to check the time on the kitchen clock. 9:30. On the East Coast, the whole family should be up by now.

The ashtray of the day was an empty yogurt container, and Allison waved her hand over it to clear the air after stubbing out her cigarette. There was no true purpose—what, was the smell going to travel through the phone?—but it felt like a necessary precaution. Her siblings all thought she’d quit months ago.

Someone answered on the second ring, and before she could get a word out, Klaus was coming in hot.

“Nice of you to call back,” he snapped. “Terribly sorry if my cry for help inconvenienced you, but desperate times!”

“What?” Allison asked in bewilderment, though she didn’t think he’d heard her. A godawful buzzing noise was filling her ear, like he was holding the phone up to a piece of machinery.

“Do you hear that?” Klaus shouted in the background. “Do you hear that, Vanya? Know what that is? IT’S THE SOUND OF ME DYING FRIENDLESS AND ALONE!”

Allison put a finger in her other ear to try and drown out any distractions. “What’s going on?” she asked loudly. “Are you alright?”

“No!” he screeched, which was a pretty good indicator that yeah, he was fine. “No, Vanya, I am _not_ alright, Jillian is going to be here in less than an hour and he won’t stop and I never get to have friends over and this is BULLSHIT!”

Alright, a lot to unpack there. She hoisted herself up onto the counter and tried to get comfortable. This might take a minute.

“Okay,” she said, “so first of all, this is Allison—“

“CONTROL YOUR CHILD, VA—Wait, what?”

“—and second, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so let’s start from the top: What is going on?”

Klaus let out a frustrated whine. “My friend from school is coming over to practice cutting techniques with me and Five’s doing one of his construction projects. It’s so loud! Here, listen.”

“No, Klaus, I already—“ But it was too late. The buzzing was back, vibrating her ear drum into jelly.

“That’s the noise the devil makes during sex,” he informed her seriously.

Allison held back a snort of laughter. “Did you ask if he could hold off while your friend was there?”

“Yes!”

“Did you ask _nicely_ if he could hold off while your friend was there?”

“So nicely!”

“Really?”

“Well…” There was a brief pause. The buzzing continued unabated in the background. “At first I asked nicely. Then I asked sternly. And then negotiations broke down and there was some stuff with a nail gun—“

“I’m sorry, _what?”_

“—so I tried to get Vanya to help but the call dropped—“

“Klaus, you’re both grown men. Do either of you honestly need to be told not to shoot your brother with nails?”

“—and now I’m talking to you. How’s your day going, by the way?”

She crossed her ankles and let her legs swing back and forth in mid-air. “I’ve had better,” she said pleasantly. “Don’t shoot your brother with nails.”

“Convince him to put down the power tools and you have yourself a deal.”

He sounded so somber that she burst out into laughter. It was either that or tears, and she had found that life was much less stressful when she tried to find the humor in these things.

Still choking, Allison eased herself off the countertop and wandered into the living room. “Tempting, but here’s my counteroffer—you go make a deal with Five instead of me, nobody injures each other, and then you ask Luther to come to the phone.”

“Counteroffer rejected! New proposal, I ask _Five_ to come to the phone, and then you tactfully point out what a dillhole he’s being.”

“Hm,” she said as she stooped down to retrieve the script off the floor. “I think this is where I bow out of negotiations altogether.”

Klaus made a noise like a dying ostrich into the phone. Out of all his dramatic sound effects, that was her personal favorite. Her fingers itched to card through his hair.

“Sorry,” she told him, flipping through the pages. “But, good news! The two of you are old enough to drive cars, and vote in elections, and apply for credit cards. I am very, very, certain that you can work this out amongst yourselves.”

“Okay, well, you’re wrong and I think you know it, but I love the confidence all the same,” he said. “Anyway. Were you calling for a reason, or just to say hi?”

She winced as the buzzing in the background swelled to a crescendo. “Ah. A little of both? I got this—“

“What? I—hold on, I can’t—“

“Can you hear me?” she asked louder.

“What?” he yelled in her ear. “Allison, I can’t hear you! I’m hanging up, okay?”

“Ask Luther to call me when he gets a minute.”

“Yeah, I love you, too! I’m off to commit a murder, wish me luck!”

“No— Well, yes, I love you, but—“

And he was gone. Probably not to commit a murder.

Probably.

After all that racket, her apartment felt almost too quiet, and she dropped the script onto the countertop from two feet up just for the sound it would make.

Silence like this was a rare gift at the Academy, these days. Five’s renovation efforts had no end in sight. He seemed to enjoy it, though, making the house a little more modern, opening up all the dark, narrow spaces inside of it. Each time she visited, it looked a bit more like a place where actual people lived.

Allison ran her palms across the kitchen island’s surface. It was real granite. Had two power outlets and a built-in sink. She still did not know how to cook.

The clock said it was now 9:47, so unless her schedule had changed—and it often did—Vanya should be between lessons.

The phone rang forever. She was just on the verge of giving up and trying again later when the line clicked and an unfamiliar female voice chirped, “Hello!”

“Oh.” She rested her elbows on the counter, a little thrown off. “Hi. Uh, who is this?”

“Vanya Hargreeves,” the stranger told her. “You’re calling from the plumbing place? The kitchen sink is backed up, I tried to snake it myself but whatever’s down there must be too deep.”

Allison’s blood turned to ice in her veins. This wasn’t Vanya. _This was not Vanya._ This was a random woman in Vanya’s apartment and answering Vanya’s phone and pretending to be her. And what had she done to her sink?!

“It smells pretty bad,” the woman went on cheerfully. “I lit some candles, but let me tell you, they are _not_ help—“

“Who are you?” Allison demanded. “Because this is Vanya’s sister, and you aren’t fooling me.”

“Oh. Oh! The movie star! Hello!”

“Where is she?” Her heart was pounding in her chest, in her ears. “Let me talk to her right now, or I swear I—I’ll call the— _I heard a rumor_ —“

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not do that,” the woman interjected, sounding slightly nervous. “I’m Katie, I’m one of Vanya’s friends. She’s taking a shower. She got stink water all over herself while we were trying to fix the sink.”

Allison tapped her nails on the counter and tried to hide the shudder in her breath. “You said you were her,” she accused, still suspicious. “When you answered the phone.”

“Yeah, sorry about that! I didn’t know if the plumber would let me schedule a time for them to come over, since I don’t live he… Oh my God, why didn’t I just say I’m her roommate?”

There was a burst of laughter on the other end. “Oh, Jesus, you must think I have her tied up in a closet. And now you must think that even more because I’m talking about tying people up in closets! _Wow_ , I should not have answered this call.”

It was on the tip of Allison’s tongue to agree that no, she really shouldn’t have, but she refrained. Vanya wouldn’t thank her for telling off her guests.

“It’s alright.” In her mind, she played the sweet little laugh their mother used to defuse difficult situations. She forced the sound through her own lips. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Could you please ask Vanya to call me when she gets out of the shower?”

“Will do,” Katie agreed. “Bye! I loved you in _Summer Storms!”_

Allison set the phone down and looked at it for a long moment. _That_ had been a rollercoaster ride of a conversation. She felt like she had earned another cigarette.

The pack was in the top drawer next to the sink, between an unopened pack of pens and a never-used roll of tape.

Vanya and this Katie person must be good friends, she thought as she lit up, if she was willing to spend her Saturday helping out with a plumbing emergency. It was nice Vanya had someone like that. Klaus, too—he’d only started his program three weeks ago, but already he was meeting people. That was great.

She took a deep drag and blew the smoke towards the ceiling fan.

Well.

The script was waiting.

Allison thumbed through the pages, looking for a good line to read to Vanya, and stopped at the part where the male lead showed up an hour late to a meeting.

He was the Bad Boy of romance novelists—missing deadlines, going to wild parties, breaking hearts left and right—and you knew it straight away because he entered the scene on a motorcycle.

MAXIMILLIAN

_(sitting sexily in his chair)_

Let me guess. You’re single, you work eighty hours a week, your

cats are your children, and your freezer is full of Chunky Monkey.

OLIVIA

_(defensively)_

I love ice cream.

MAXIMILLIAN

_(sounding intrigued)_

I’m intrigued.

The phone rang, and she hopped up to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Allison. It’s Vanya. Uh, for real, this time.”

“Hey!” She leaned against the wall, twining a lock of hair around her finger. “Thanks for calling back. Your girlfriend scared the shit out of me for a second there.”

Vanya spluttered on the other end. _“Girlfriend?”_

“Yeah.” Allison smiled, confused. “Your friend Katie? She answered the phone and said she was you? And I thought ‘Oh my God, there is a woman in Vanya’s apartment, wearing her face?’”

“Oh,” said Vanya, her voice oddly high-pitched. “Yeah, that… friend. Who’s a girl. Uh. So what were you calling about?”

She made a face at nothing. “Ugh. So, like ten years ago, I—“

“Because I’m sort of waiting for a repair guy to call me—“

They both stopped when they realized they were talking over each other.

Allison smiled. “Is that a hint to speed this up?”

“No! No, I’d love to talk to you, just… There’s been three inches of standing water in my sink for two days. It’s kind of gross.”

“More than kind of.” She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and stretched out to grab her makeshift ashtray. “Why is it taking so long to fix? What’s your landlord doing?”

Vanya made a soft, apologetic sound. “My landlady always uses the same plumber,” she explained, “but they’ve been busy and they haven’t had time to come by. It’s nobody’s fault, really.”

Well, that seemed debatable.

“Sounds like it’s time for her to find a back-up,” she said as she put out her cigarette. “I’d call her and tell her she needs to send somebody else over, if I was you.”

“Yeah,” said Vanya, non-committal. “Maybe, I guess. Um, talk later? I cancelled my lessons to deal with this, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Sounds good to me. Good luck with the sink!”

They hung up. As surely as Allison knew that the sky was blue and that she loved her daughter, she knew that Vanya was not going to call her landlady.

She sighed as she put the phone in its base. One more problem for the pile.

{}{}{}{}{}

OLIVIA’S BOSS

If you’re having trouble finishing a novel about an uptight career woman with no time for romance, you should spend a week with Olivia. She can be your muse.

OLIVIA

_(drops ice cream in shock)_

MAXIMILLIAN

_(winks sexily)_

Don’t fall in love with me, baby.

A tiny piece of scallion fell from Allison’s spoon onto the page, and she pushed the script away. She wasn’t sure there was any point in finishing it, really—it felt like a movie she’d seen before. Many, many times over.

Maximillian and Olivia clashed hard—She’s boring and responsible but also clumsy and relatable! He’s a raging asshole and that’s appealing for some reason!—then gradually came to see that they weren’t so different after all. There were hijinks. There was a dance scene. They kissed in a gazebo in the rain, but then uh-oh, here comes the Big Misunderstanding. Would true love prevail?

Spoiler: It did.

Allison slurped a pho noddle into her mouth as loud and disgusting as possible, purely because she felt like being a contrarian. It was delicious, and as she reached for the phone, she made up her mind to tell Luther that they all needed to go out for dim sum the next time she visited.

But first.

“Al’s Gym.”

“Hi.” She plucked a piece of chicken from her lunch. “I’m looking for Diego Hargreeves. Is he there?”

“He’s upstairs.” The voice on the other end had taken on a distinctly annoyed quality. “I can go get him if you want. All the way up the stairs. On the other side of the building from my office.”

“Thanks!”

There was a sigh and a few indistinct sounds, like the phone was being set down.

Moments later, she heard, “Hello?”

Much more polite when he was at work, wasn’t he?

“Hi, Diego!” she said brightly. “Eat a sandwich. And don’t hang up on people, it’s rude.”

The worst thing about modern, cordless telephones was that you couldn’t slam them down dramatically, but the little ‘beep!’ when she ended the call was still pretty satisfying.

From memory, she dialed the house number. Their father’s office line, this time, where hopefully she wouldn’t be able to hear Five tearing the place apart.

“Hargreeves residence.”

“Hello.” She wound a lock of hair around her finger, trying to place the voice. “This is Allison, and I’m talking to… Dave?”

“That’s me,” he confirmed. “How are you? Everything good in L.A.?”

“Well, the weather is nice.” She picked a noddle out of the takeout container with her chopsticks. “How are things there? Klaus is hanging out with his friend?”

“Jillian.” He enunciated each syllable, voice tinged with amusement. Allison frowned. What was funny about Jillian? “They’re in the kitchen right now. Did you want to talk to him?”

“No, that’s okay.” She shifted in her seat. “So, did you meet her? Does she seem nice?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I mean, she hasn’t met _me_ on account of the goo hole, y’know, but she’s a sweet girl. Sort of shy, but she’s real young. Klaus said she just turned twenty earlier this month.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. Sweet, shy, barely out of her teens, and hanging around with Klaus. Something there did not add up.

“Okay,” she said. “As long as they’re having fun. What are you up to?”

“Just ghosting around,” he told her cheerily. “Me and Ben might be going out to Arizona for a few days next week.”

“Oh, wow,” she said with some surprise. “Ghost vacation, huh? That’s cool. Uh, why Arizona?”

“Spring Training,” he explained, which really did not clarify anything. “We’re gonna try to catch the last few days of the Dodgers.”

Ah. Baseball. She needed to tread carefully here—the only time she had ever seen Dave get angry was when the subject of the Dodgers’ move from Brooklyn to Los Angeles came up. He’d said that was the second worst day of his life, right after getting drafted, and somehow ahead of dying.

“That sounds great,” she said quickly. “I hope you guys have an awesome time. So, hey, is Luther around anywhere?”

Dave hummed in thought. “He might still be outside. He was working on getting his garden started since it’s getting warm enough—Oh, hang on a sec, here’s Ben.”

“Hi, Ben!” Allison called.

“I’m going to give the phone to him and see where Luther’s at,” said Dave. “Take care, alright?”

“You, too,” she said. What kind of care a dead person would need to take was beyond her, but the sentiment was there.

There were some noises—muffled voices, clacking plastic, a hand being dragged over the mouthpiece—and then Ben was breathing softly into the phone, the way he always did.

“Hi, Allison.”

“Hey, hey!” She set down her chopsticks and rested her elbows on the counter. “How are you? I heard you’re going on a trip.”

“Yeah, we might be.” Did his voice sound strained? “Not sure yet. What’s new with…”

After a moment of nothing, she prompted, “Ben? You still there?”

“Sorry,” he said, low and frantic, “I was waiting for Dave to leave. Allison— _I don’t want to go to Arizona.”_

She leaned forward, feeling as though they were sharing a secret from 3000 miles apart. “Why not?”

His breath exploded in her ear. “Because baseball sucks! The actual games are boring enough, I don’t want to watch them _practice.”_

She tried to stop herself from smiling, even though there was no way he would ever know. “So tell him you’re not a fan.”

“I can’t,” he moaned with genuine anguish. “Dave thinks I’m into it.”

“Does he?” She tried to recall a time when Ben had expressed an interest in anything even slightly athletic. None sprang to mind. “Why?”

“Because I… told him I’m into it.”

A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

“It was back before we knew each other very well,” he said defensively. “He asked if I followed sports at all, and I didn’t want to be like, ‘No, I’m a homeschooled weirdo and I’ve never even seen a football in real life’ so I told him I did, and…”

He sighed. “Now here we are. Going on the worst vacation ever, I guess.”

It still hit Allison, sometimes, how much she had missed Ben during the years he’d been lost to them. She’d missed his voice, the faces he made when he was annoyed. She’d missed his smile, his kindness, the way he’d get so absorbed in his reading that you could talk at him for five minutes straight and he wouldn’t hear a single word.

She’d missed what an awkward little dork he could be.

Grinning like an idiot, she picked her chopsticks back up. “Ben,” she said. “I think you’ll be fine if you come clean. Dave’s been around almost a year now. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly how cool you are.”

He exhaled loudly in her ear. “No, that’ll just make me look weirder. Who lies to impress their brother’s boyfriend?”

He sounded weary, as though he had already gone over all the possible angles to this problem. This stupid, stupid problem.

“What I need is for Klaus to say he’d be lonely if we both left, but he won’t. He told me he’s trying to be less clingy. And then he laughed at me.”

“Aw, good for him! I mean, not the laughing at you part, the ‘less clingy’ part. Growing on up!”

“If he could grow up in two weeks instead of right now,” Ben replied sullenly, “that would be great.”

Allison popped a slice of mushroom into her mouth and stretched out to grab the script.

“Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect thing to take your mind off of your worries,” she told him, opening it to the scene where Gay Ray gave Olivia a makeover. Because apparently an adult professional had no idea how to dress. “Okay, so this is from a movie I—“

“What?” Ben interrupted. “I—hang on a minute, Allison, sorry.”

There was talking in the background, but she couldn’t make out what was being said.

Ben came back, heralded again by the sound of his breathing. He’d never quite gotten the hang of speaking on the phone—not much opportunity to practice, when they’d been young—and it straddled the line between irritating and sort of cute.

“Dave says Luther can’t talk right now,” he told her, in a measured tone. “Everything is fine, he’s just… busy. With the garden.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Um. So, Klaus really only manifested me to meet his classmate he invited over, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to last, so I’m going to let you go, if that’s okay?”

Allison frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No, we’re all good over here. I just want to check on Luther real quick. I mean, he’s fine. Everything is fine. But still.”

Three ‘fines.’ Trouble was brewing.

She tapped the heel of her shoe against the rung on her stool. “Ben, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s—Oh, wow, I think I’m starting to turn invisible?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You said you can’t feel it when that happens.”

“I’ve got to run. Love you!”

“I love you, too, even though you’re a liar.” She rushed to add, “And please ask Luther to call me back!”

“I will. Bye! I’m not a liar!”

Allison pressed the off button and studied the phone. What the heck was happening over there? It wasn’t like Luther to not return her calls.

She ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. It got taxing, trying to live life in two places at once.

While she was here in Los Angeles, she was hours or even days behind whatever new drama was unfolding on the East Coast. It seemed like each time she visited, she stepped off the plane and into a crisis she hadn’t known was even happening.

While she was there in New York, she fretted constantly about what she might be missing in California. What if Claire got sick, or Patrick’s babysitting arrangements fell through and he had the idea to give her a call, or her director was trying to reach her and had lost the Academy’s number?

She felt—powerless, and out of the loop. And exhausted, a lot of the time, even though it felt like she was half-assing everything.

The phone in her hand started to ring, and she jumped a little bit in her seat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Allison!” Diego. He sounded so cheery that it had to be sarcasm. “Eat a dick. And don’t crank-call people at their job, it’s rude.”

He hung up as she burst into surprised laughter.

{}{}{}{}{}

INT. BACKYARD-DAY

MAXIMILLIAN and HIS FATHER are playing catch with a baseball.

MAXIMILLIAN’S FATHER

I wish you would settle down, son.

MAXIMILLIAN

Maybe if my terrible ex-fiance hadn’t cheated on me and broken my heart, I would. But I don’t believe in love anymore. Ironic that I’m a romance novelist, isn’t it?

MAXIMILLIAN’S FATHER

You just need to find the right girl.

MAXIMILLIAN

It is my earnestly-held belief that all women are exactly the same.

“— aren’t able to come to the phone right now, so please leave a message.”

Allison rolled over on her bed and pressed the off button. They hadn’t had caller ID when she’d ceded the house to Patrick, but she was starting to suspect he’d invested in it at some point. The one time she had called from a random payphone to say she was running late, he’d answered right away, like magic.

It was fine. They were due back in family court in a month, and her lawyer thought her chances of finally scoring unsupervised visitation were good.

Though, that was what he’d said last time, too. And the time before that.

She turned the phone over in her hands, seized by a sudden irritation that nobody in the family ever called her unless they needed something or she called them first. Were they all afraid of telephones? Uncertain how to work this novel piece of technology?

Well, whatever. She was a very busy woman, and she had more important things to do than mope.

“Al’s Gym.”

“Uh…” Oh, shit. It was Diego.

She’d devised a cunning ploy to lure him to the office by pretending to be a gym-goer who had found a knife he’d lost a few weeks earlier, but she hadn’t counted on him being the one to answer. Now what?

“Got your knife!” she blurted out, then ended the call.

There. The perfect crime.

…Or not. The gym’s number lit up on the little display screen seconds later.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas,” Diego said jovially, before just about blowing out her ear drum by hanging up with the force of a full-body tackle.

Allison dialed the house number with a smile. No matter how low her spirits got, Diego could always make her laugh.

Sometimes even on purpose.

“Who is this?”

“Oh, hi, Five!” She pulled a pillow free to use as an armrest. “It’s Allison. All done with your renovations for the day?”

“Not even close. I’m just taking a break to use the restroom, and I heard the phone ringing. How did you know about that, anyway?”

Someone who hadn’t been raised with him would have missed the slight shift in his tone on that last sentence, but Allison would bet her left kidney that he was narrowing his eyes.

“Klaus told me.” She kicked a leg back and forth in the air. “We talked earlier.”

“I see,” he said wryly. “And now I suppose you’re going to ask me to stop on his behalf.”

Allison smiled at her bedspread. Not even a minute in, and already he was accusing her of plotting against him. As in all of their interactions, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to strangle him or give him a hug.

“I wasn’t, but since you brought it up!” She switched the phone to her other ear. “Is there any way you could postpone your stuff for a while? He’s excited to have company over. It can be your good deed for the month.”

Five made a sound of frustration. “He knew all week that I was going to finish the drywall today. If he can’t plan his life accordingly, it’s not my problem.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Is the house going to fall down, Five? If you push your project back a few hours, is the ceiling going to cave in?”

“All I can tell you is what _I’m_ going to do, which is hang up, and then use the bathroom,” he said breezily. “Have a nice day, Allison.”

“Wait, hold on!” She got up on her knees on the mattress. “Is Luther there? Or, do you know if he’s okay, at least? Ben said something about going to check on him earlier and he was acting kind of weird about it.”

Five scoffed. “Luther is as okay as he’s ever been.”

That was… less than reassuring.

“He’s not physically injured, if that’s what you meant. Can’t tell you much more than that. Mental breakdowns aren’t really my department, so I left.”

Mental breakdown? Over what? Hadn’t he been working in the garden?

Allison sighed into the phone. “Is _everybody_ having a crappy day?” she asked plaintively. “I swear, it seems like the sky is falling for everyone I talk to, and none of them want to take my advice. What am I supposed to do?”

“Stop talking to people,” Five suggested.

She flopped over onto her back. “Such wisdom.”

“Mm. Comes with age. Can I hang up now?”

Allison wound a lock of hair around her finger. Not for the first time, she wished she and Five could trade powers for a day. Because he was right, wisdom did come with age, and if she could go back in time… there was so, _so_ much she would tell her younger self to do differently.

Maybe she’d pay her older self a visit, too. Ask what mistakes she was making right now, because she was sure there were plenty.

_I hate my condo and I think I hate L.A.,_ she would tell herself. _The only reason I’m still here is because of my daughter who I hardly get to see. Everyone else in the world who loves me is on the other side of the country, and I feel like I’m letting them down by not being there. When, when, when will this get easier?_

“Hello? Allison? Start talking in the next three seconds or I’m gone, I need to take a piss.”

She swept her hair over her shoulder, and imagined that she brushed aside her self-pity along with it. There was no going back in time, and no leaping ahead. Only one foot in front of the other.

“Sorry, I’m here.” Her lips quirked. “Thank you for sharing that information with me, by the way.”

“Knowledge is power. Goodbye.” 

“Wait, Five—“ She sat up on her bed. An idea was taking form. “I was actually calling to see if one of you guys could check in on Vanya.”

There was a pause. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, _she’s_ okay,” Allison reassured him. “It’s the plumbing at her apartment—I guess it’s been screwy for a few days, and her landlady isn’t super on top of it. And, well. You know Vanya! Anything to avoid a confrontation, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, sounding mistrustful.

“Yeah. So I just thought _maybe_ some handy, assertive person should step in and take charge. Help her out. Be a good brother. No pressure on anyone, though.”

Five made an enigmatic noise into the phone. “I suppose I can take a drive over there.”

His voice dropped an octave. “But if this turns out to be a ruse to get me to stop sanding until Klaus’s friend leaves, we have a problem. Mark my words, Allison—you are going to regret it.”

She laughed. “Okay, wow, I’m shaking in my shoes.”

Oh Jesus, what if Vanya had already gotten the plumber to come and fix the sink?

He hummed in suspicion. “Laugh all you want. Goodbye, Allison.”

“Love you, too,” she crooned teasingly.

The split second they had hung up, she dialed Vanya’s apartment with fingers made clumsy by adrenaline.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she chanted, foot jiggling against the mattress.

“Hello?”

“Vanya!” She clutched the phone tighter. “It’s Allison again, just wondering if you ever got the sink taken care of?”

“Oh. No. I think it’s actually _more_ broken, somehow? There’s this black sludgy stuff coming up from the drain now, I’m starting to get worried that something’s really wrong with it.”

“Oh, thank _God,”_ Allison said on a sigh of relief.

“Uh…”

“So, head’s up, Five’s coming over to give you a hand with it,” she explained as fast as she could. “I’m not sure if I should say ‘You’re welcome’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ but if you don’t want him to give death threats to your landlady, you should probably call her yourself right now.”

“Oh. I, um—How did this happen, exactly?”

“Long story.” Allison waved an impatient hand through the air, a laugh bubbling up through her lips. “You’re welcome! I’m sorry! And don’t tell him we had this conversation, okay? Just—act surprised when he shows up.”

“Alright,” Vanya agreed uncertainly.

Allison could hear in her voice that she had about a thousand questions, but she wasn’t going to ask any of them. Vanya was good like that. She’d always had a natural talent for just rolling with things that made no sense.

“And you might want to send your friend home,” she advised. “Because, you know—Five.”

“No, I think it’s okay.” Vanya still sounded lost. “They’ve met before. She still speaks to me, so.”

“Really?” Allison smiled. “She’s a keeper.”

“Yeah,” said Vanya, for some unfathomable reason awkward. “Yeah, a keeper as a friend. We—we’re good friends. Because friends are… good.”

“That they are,” Allison agreed. “Okay, I’ve got to go. Have fun with your sink sludge!”

Satisfied that she was not at risk of being set on fire the next time she saw Five, she punched in the number that led to the phone in the Academy’s kitchen.

“Hola! Casa de Hargreeves!”

“Hey, Klaus.” She stood up. “It’s Allison again. Just calling to let you know I think I got Five out of the house for a bit.”

He gasped. “Miracles do happen! Muchas gracias!”

“You’re welcome! Can you do something for me?”

“Anything for my knight in shining armor.”

“Save Ben from baseball.”

“What?” There was a rustling of fabric, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Allison, no! I already told Dave I was cool with it, I don’t want to be a buzzkill boyfriend.”

She started pacing across the carpet. “Dave can go,” she said. “Dave can go all day. But Ben doesn’t want to, and he’s done lots of stuff for you over the years. Time to return the favor, don’t you think?”

Klaus made a deeply unattractive sound in the back of his throat. “How about this—next time you’re here, I’ll style your hair instead? Free of charge. I’m starting to get good at it, you know.”

“Nope!” she sang. “My price is firm.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” She could _hear_ the sulk on his face, if such a thing was possible. “Fine. But terms and conditions may apply, just so we’re clear.”

“Name them.”

“The next time you’re here, I still style your hair—for a modest fee.”

“I will give you a dollar,” she offered graciously.

“I was thinking more like that black skirt you have with the fringe on it?”

“Fifty cents.”

“…Deal.”

She laughed. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Arrivederci, you captain of industry!”

The little ‘beep’ when she hit the phone off sounded like the exclamation point at the end of her sentence. Three birds, one stone. She was a runaway train!

Now all that was left was to figure out what Luther’s issue was, and then— her momentum faltered as she caught sight of the script, still lying on her bed.

And then she had to let her agent know she’d read it. And then she had to give Patrick another try, and see if he’d allow her to speak to Claire. And then later she would eat dinner, alone, and lie in a bed that was too big for one person and be swallowed alive by the silence of the night.

She sighed. _One foot in front of the other._

{}{}{}{}{}

MAXIMILLIAN

Look, I know I’m not perfect, but what we had was real. So take a chance for once in your life. Take a chance on me. Take a chance on LOVE. Tell me what I need to do to get you back.

OLIVIA

_(a slow smile spreading across her face)_

I love ice cream.

Allison stared down at the page with her head in her hands.

Should she self-medicate with wine? A cigarette? A full frontal lobotomy? All three were sounding better by the word, and there were six more pages to go.

No, she decided. There were healthier ways to boost her mood.

“Al’s Gym.”

She whistled the first few bars of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ and hung up.

Once she had, it occurred to her that _might_ not have been Diego on the other end— but what choice did she have? He’d be ready for her now. If he got the drop on her and hung up first, all was lost.

The phone started to ring. It wasn’t the gym, much to her surprise—it was the Academy.

“Hello? Luther?”

“No, it’s Ben.” His voice sounded heavy. “I’m gonna go get Luther so you can talk to him, though. If you have time.”

Allison glanced at the kitchen clock. 1:21. It felt like this day had been going on for a century.

“I think I can schedule you guys in.” Rising from her stool, she stretched her back until it cracked. “What’s up?”

“Well…” There was silence. Except for Ben’s omnipresent breathing, of course. “He’s having sort of a hard time with the garden. Like, figuring out where everything should go? And I really, really think he should take a break and come back to it tomorrow, but he’s, uh…very… determined.”

“Determined.” She opened her fridge and took out a yogurt. “By that you mean ‘stubborn,’ or…?”

“I mean that he’s fucking losing it,” Ben said, with mingled frustration and concern. “I went out there, and there were dahlia bulbs _everywhere,_ he was covered in dirt and peanut butter, he told me dead serious that plants don’t like him—I don’t know what to do with him. I really don’t.”

“Oh, Luther,” Allison sighed. She tore the top off her yogurt and settled back in at the island. “Alright. Let me see if I can help.”

_“Thank_ you.”

She took a bite of Strawberry Cheesecake Swirl while she waited, and then her phone made an unfamiliar ‘bleedeep!’ noise.

Call waiting. She licked her spoon clean and hit accept. This was only going to take a second.

“Domino’s Pizza!”

“Ah—what?” Diego’s puzzled voice said in her ear. “Oh. Sorry, wrong number.”

“That’s okay,” she told him. “Happens all the time.”

“…Allison?” he asked after a beat of silence. “That you?”

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir.” She twirled her spoon through the air. “This is Domino speaking.”

There was a loud belch, and then the dial tone.

She snickered as she switched back to the other line. Diego was the premiere douchebag of their generation, and she hoped he never changed.

“—llison?” Luther was saying into the void. “Hello? Are you there?”

“Hi, I’m here!” She stuck her spoon into the yogurt and propped her elbows up on the countertop. “It’s good to finally hear from you. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he did sound apologetic, if a bit distracted. “I was in the garden.”

“Ben mentioned that.” She picked at a loose sparkle in her nail polish. “He said you were having some trouble out there.”

“I’m not,” Luther told her. He said it like he was defending himself from a grievous insult. “It’s just, I started planting and then I realized that I’d measured one of the rows wrong while I was planning everything out, so I had to adjust some stuff. Or, a lot of stuff. But it was fine.”

Allison frowned. There was that word again. Did any of them know what ‘fine’ actually meant?

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Luther sighed. “Well… I started planting the dahlias, like I said, but the row wasn’t long enough. So I dug them back up and thought I’d put the bell peppers there instead. But then once I finished, I noticed that the lilac bush has gotten so tall that it’d be blocking the sun over the peppers for half the afternoon, so I decided to dig _that_ up and move it—“

“Wait,” Allison interrupted. “You moved the whole bush?”

“Yeah. It seemed like that would be easier.”

“…Okay.”

“Right. So then I was trying to figure out where to put the lilac bush, because it’d look weird if it was too close to the tomatoes. So I decided to take the tomatoes _out_ and replant them on the other side of the yard—“

She rubbed her forehead.

“—and I started putting the freesias where the tomatoes used to be, and then I realized that I had totally forgotten about the dahlias. So I sat down on the ground for a second just to think, and then Ben came outside, and we… sort of had an argument.”

“It sounds like you were getting a little stressed out,” she said gently. “You and Ben never argue.”

“It wasn’t like, a full-on fight,” he said, with a touch of uncertainty. “We just—Well, he said I should stop for the day and I said I couldn’t. Nobody was yelling or anything.”

He stopped short. Even over the phone, his silence felt guilty.

“Then what happened?” she prompted.

“Then… he took my trowel and he wouldn’t give it back. So I kind of chased him around the yard for a few minutes?”

Allison closed her eyes briefly. Laughter would be neither kind nor helpful right now, but God was testing her.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Luther mumbled, seemingly more to himself than to her. “I have other trowels.”

“Well, we all make mistakes.” She strummed her fingers on the counter. “And the peanut butter? What was that about?”

“Peanut butter?” he echoed in mystification.

“Ben said you’ve got peanut butter all over you.”

“Do I?” There was the sound of movement on the other end. “I had a sandwich earlier. Maybe I got some on my…”

Luther trailed off.

“Okay,” he said after a few seconds, sheepish. “It’s not _all over_ me. But there, uh. There is some peanut butter, yes.”

Allison covered her smile with her hand. “Luther,” she said. “I think Ben is right. I think you should quit for the day and give it another shot tomorrow.”

He sighed. “I can’t,” he insisted, though she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “I’m trying to have everything ready by next weekend, and I think I actually have _less_ stuff planted now than when I started. Oh my God, why did I dig up the lilac bush?”

“Because people do weird stuff when they’re overwhelmed.” She scooped another spoonful of yogurt out of the container. “Trust me, take the night to clear your head, and it’ll all seem a lot less complicated in the morning.”

“The lilacs are going to die,” he said with a note of despair. “It’s the first week of spring, and I’m already killing everything."

She hummed in sympathy, even as her smile got bigger. How had she gone ten years without this? Her younger self had been stone-cold stupid.

“None of that,” she chided. “Think positive.”

“I’m not good at that,” he mumbled. “I’m not like you.”

Allison paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You know.” Without seeing him, she knew that he was shrugging. “You’re… upbeat, and you don’t let stuff bother you, I guess. You’re just a happy person.”

_A happy person._ Something painful squeezed in her chest.

She set the spoon down. “I’m not sure if that’s true,” she told him baldly. “I think I’m good at distracting myself from my problems.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

She leaned forward a little bit. “I really don’t know,” she confessed.

They both fell silent for a few moments. Each absorbed in their own thoughts, content in knowing the other was there.

Luther cleared his throat. “Well. What kind of stuff do you do? To distract yourself, I mean.”

“Hm.” She started playing with her hair, then stopped, because she was giving herself split ends.

How _did_ she distract herself? It could be anything, really. Reading a book, taking a walk. Organizing a closet. Getting her nails done.

…Focusing on other people’s problems, instead of her own.

Allison sat up in her seat. “Hey. Do you want to know why I’ve been trying to call you all day?”

“Yeah,” he said, slightly surprised. “I didn’t know there was a specific reason. I thought you just wanted to check in.”

She squished the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she reached across the countertop. “No, there was definitely a reason. My agent sent me this script. It’s a rom-com. And it’s, like… _really_ bad.”

“Oh.” He hesitated. “So—you think your agent is going to be upset that you won’t do it?”

“Ohhh, no _,”_ she said with a bray of humorless laughter. “No, I’m doing it! I don’t have a choice. I’m still under contract.”

“Contract,” he repeated.

“Yep!” She ran a finger up the vertical side of the pages and let them ‘phhhhlip’ back into place. “Ten years ago, I signed a three-movie deal with Matrenfoire Studios. I made the first two, my career took off, I started getting other offers—but they’ve still got me for that third movie.”

“But… You can’t get out of it? It has to be _this_ movie?”

Allison tapped her nails on the granite. “My agent already tried,” she told him wearily. “One of Matrenfoire’s big franchise stars wrote it. He wants to try his hand at directing, I guess, and they’re bending over backwards to keep him happy.”

“That sucks,” Luther said with feeling. “That really sucks. I’m—I wish I could do something to help.”

“Commiseration is plenty.” She opened the script to the first page. “I’ve been trying to find somebody to bitch to all day, but everyone has their own stuff going on.”

“I’m not busy,” he told her. “You can read it to me if you want. And… Well, I was going to say Klaus and Ben aren’t busy either, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Oh.” She traced a finger across the page. “Klaus’s friend left? They sound like an odd pair.”

“I thought that at first, too,” he confided. “But then a little while ago I went into the kitchen and he had his shirt off, and she was drawing Marie Antoinette getting beheaded on his back with a marker.”

“Ah.” She smiled a little in spite of herself. “Suddenly it makes more sense.”

“Yeah.” A brief silence. “Do you—Would you rather talk to him? Or Ben? They both probably know more about movies and stuff than I do.”

Allison raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m pretty sure my phone can do conference calls.”

{}{}{}{}{}

“Al’s gym.”

“Hello, Diego! It’s Allison.” She crossed her legs on the living room floor. “I was just calling to ask what time you get done work today.”

“I don’t know.” His voice was guarded, on high alert for her next trap. “Al fucked off early and I’m just sitting around waiting on a delivery.”

“So you have time to talk?”

“I guess,” he said warily.

“Great!” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “How has your day been?”

“Not bad.” He paused. “Got a bunch of hang-up calls from some weirdo with too much time on their hands.”

“Oh, that sounds terrible,” she said seriously. “Who would do that to you? But I’m sure you handled it like a real professional.”

“Yeah,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You know me. Customer is king, and all that crap.”

She smiled, too, and leaned back against her sofa. “Are you feeling better from this morning? You sound better.”

“I ate a whole box of crackers when I got to work,” he admitted, not without a hint of guilt. “I forgot they were in my locker and I just went to fucking town on ‘em.”

Allison swallowed a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you put something in your stomach,” she said diplomatically.

“If you say ‘I told you so,’ I’m hanging up,” he warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway. I’m trying to set up like, a five-way call with everybody, so if you want to participate, can you call me back in maybe ten minutes?”

“Oh. Alright, yeah.” He made a low noise. “Something wrong?”

“No, no,” she said. “Everything’s good, I just have something important to talk to you all about. It’s—“

She hung up, already laughing and wishing like crazy that she could see the look on his face.

{}{}{}{}{}

“HELLO? CAN YOU GUYS HEAR ME? DID I DO THE THING RIGHT?” Klaus’s voice suddenly dropped as he spoke away from the phone. “I don’t think we did it right, Ben.”

“I can hear you,” Vanya told him.

“People in China can hear you,” Five called from the background of her apartment.

“What? Who said that?” Klaus asked in bewilderment.

Allison dropped the butt of her cigarette into the yogurt container. “Okay,” she said. “Is everybody here? Luther? Diego?”

“I’m here with Klaus,” Ben’s voice said faintly.

“I know.” She readjusted the phone next to her ear. “Luther and Diego, where are you guys?”

“I’m he—“

“Did you hear Ben?” Klaus cut in. “Did you guys hear Ben?”

“I’m—“

“Ben is with me. Say hi, Ben.”

“Hi,” said Ben.

“DIEGO IS HERE.”

“Stop yelling,” Klaus admonished. “Nobody can hear Ben if you’re yelling.”

“I’m with Klaus,” Ben reiterated.

Allison pressed two fingers to her temple.

“Yes, Ben, hello.” She brushed a stray speck of ash off the script as she pulled it into her lap. “Where did Luther go?”

“Maybe he hung up on you,” Diego said snidely. 

She peered over at the phone’s base on the counter. “No, it says he’s still connected.” She bit her lip. “Did he mute himself by mistake?”

“Oh, you can do that?” asked Klaus. “Can you mute other people?”

“If you try to mute me, I’ll mute you with a sock when I get home,” threatened Diego.

Allison flipped open the instruction manual that had come with the phone and paged through it, looking for how to spring Luther from the cone of silence.

“Why would I mute you, the nicest and least punchy person I’ve ever met?” Klaus asked, sounding hurt. “I was thinking we should mute Vanya. She _never_ shuts up.”

“Sorry,” Vanya said on reflex.

“Pipe _down,_ Vanya. Jeez, do you even stop to take a breath?”

Allison scanned the section on multi-way calls. “Okay, Luther, if you’re there, press pound twice,” she instructed.

There was a beep, but no Luther.

“I think he only pressed it once,” said Vanya.

“No, that might have been us.” Klaus’s voice had turned put-upon. “Ben pushed me.”

There was a sudden rush of static over the line as someone breathed into the phone. “I didn’t push him,” Ben reported.

“Someone tell Mom to get on,” said Diego. “She should be here, too.”

“You _did_ push me. You went like this—“

There was another beep.

“Luther?” Allison said, louder. “You have to push it twice. Or—Klaus, was that you again?”

“DON’T YOU BITE ME!”

“I didn’t bite you, you hit my tooth!”

“One of you guys go get Mom,” ordered Diego, half-shouting for no discernible reason.

Allison put a finger in her free ear. “Luther,” she said. “Luther, you have to press pound two times.”

“He’s probably pushing the wrong button,” Five yelled off in the distance. “Tell him it’s the one that looks like the number symbol.”

“Five says he’s probably pushing the wrong button—” Vanya repeated helpfully.

“Yeah,” said Allison. “I can hear—“

“—and that you should tell him it’s the one that looks like the number symbol.”

“…Thank you, Vanya.”

“Sure.”

“Wait,” Diego broke in, “is Five at your apartment? He told me he was going to finish the drywall today.”

“Ben has resorted to cannibalism, if anyone cares,” Klaus announced to the group at large. “I always knew this day would come, but I never expected to be his first victim. In a way, it’s an honor.”

_“I didn’t bite you!”_

“What’s the hold up _this_ time?” Diego asked crossly. “FIVE. FIVE, YOU NEED TO FINISH THE FUCKING DRYWALL, DUDE.”

Allison jerked the phone away from her ear with a wince. “Nobody needs to yell, guys,” she called into it. “We can all use our indoor voices.”

“OUR HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A PLACE WHERE SQUATTERS LIVE. I’M SICK OF IT.”

“I forgot that you’re accustomed to the luxury of cement floors and showers that you have to wear shoes into,” came Five’s faint retort.

On Klaus’s and Ben’s end there was a keening cry and a loud thunk.

“Five says… Ah… He says he’s sorry, he just got side-tracked with helping me fix something at my apartment.”

Allison rubbed at her forehead. “Vanya, we can all hear him.”

“…Oh.”

“God, quit pulling my hair!”

“I’m barely even touching you!”

“DAAAVE!”

Allison let her eyes flutter closed. What did it say about her, she wondered, that she wished she could step through the phone right into the middle of all the chaos on the other end?

“—hear me now? Hello? Guys?”

“Oh!” Her eyes flew open. “Luther! Yes, we can hear you!”

“Hooray,” muttered Diego.

Luther coughed a little into the phone. “Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “I was trying to press the button, but they’re so small—I had to go get a pencil.”

Someone—there was honestly no telling who—snicker-snorted.

“All that matters is that you’re here now,” Allison assured him. She got up on her knees and tossed the instruction pamphlet aside. “Okay, everyone ready? Vanya? Five?”

“We’re here.”

“This could have been halfway over by now,” Five bitched from afar.

“Wait,” Luther butted in. “Are you guys together? Are you at Vanya’s place? Did you finish the drywall that fast?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Vanya’s voice floated over the line in apologetic tones. “He says he’s going to finish it soon, and he’s sorry if the delay is an inconvenience.”

There was no possible universe in which that was what Five had said, but Allison had to give Vanya props for trying. And for finally realizing that she needed to put a hand over the mouthpiece while he was talking.

“Klaus? Ben? Are you there?”

“Okay, yeah, we’re here.” Ben said after another thunk. “You can start.”

“HE’S SITTING ON ME AND I MIGHT DIE,” Klaus yelled from the background.

“He’s fine.”

“NO.”

“Just go ahead, Allison.”

“Neither of you are getting Mom, are you?” grumbled Diego.

“We can fill her in later,” Allison promised, paging through the script.

There would be time. She probably wouldn’t be able to visit as much as she’d like, once filming started for the movie—but this was good, too. Not perfect. But good.

She could go anywhere in the world, and still be able to listen to them all bicker and laugh and comfort each other and curse one another out, with just the press of a few buttons. Never too far from her reach.

Plus, this way, she could just hang the hell up when they started getting on her nerves.

“Okay. So, this is from a script I got yesterday. It’s called _Sealed With a Kiss,_ and it’s basically the worst.” She cleared her throat. “‘Interior, apartment, night. Olivia—that’s going to be me—and her gay friend Ray are sitting on the couch watching television…”

**Author's Note:**

> You can probably tell from the references to early spring that this was supposed to be posted a few weeks ago. I had it mostly ready, but then life happened and now I guess these characters live in a world where the best time to start a garden is in May. They already live in a world where God is a ten year old girl and you're allowed to get on a bus wearing only a bloody towel, so fuck it. Anything is possible!


End file.
